LANCASTER BLACK HISTORY GROUP

Bronte Crawford and Gordon Walker

Bronte Crawford worked on this article while studying at Lancaster University. Prof Gordon Walker teaches at the Lancaster Environment Centre.

When visiting old houses and museums we can find ourselves imagining the lives of those who once used and interacted with what is being displayed. The tables they had meals at, the chairs they sat on, the bookcases they surveyed, the wood panelling they polished and admired. Rarely, perhaps, are we encouraged to think on such items themselves, their composition, the source of the materials they are made of and how these came to be. One such material is mahogany used to make fine furniture during the ‘mahogany mania’[2] of the 18^th Century, including by the Gillow company of Lancaster.

Why Mahogany?

Today, as in the 18^th Century, genuine mahogany is prized for its colour, durability, and scarcity. If, as Jennifer Anderson[3] writes, ‘abundant mahogany became rare in many places by the mid- to late- eighteenth century’ as a consequence of intense demand and the very slow growing of new trees, mahogany is now even more highly sought after as an ‘exotic hardwood’.  However, there is a key difference: during the eighteenth-century, mahogany was thoroughly embedded as a commodity in the slave economy. Ships forcibly taking enslaved Africans from their homelands to the colonial outposts of the Caribbean included mahogany amongst the cargo brought back on their return voyages to England. This highly valued wood was then used by furniture companies and their craftsmen to make high-end products for their wealthier customers. Therefore, exhibiting mahogany furniture from this period, even something as apparently mundane as a table or chair, can provoke questions not just about those to whom it would have belonged, but those whose labours, identities, and experiences of routine violence, were subsumed into the political and historical ecology of its coming into being.

Building on an earlier initial exploration of the Gillow archive[4], a short research-based internship was established in Lancaster University’s Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences to further investigate the enrolment of mahogany within the ‘triangular’ slave trade economy. Starting with a ship, the Norfolk, listed in Melinda Elder’s book[5] as having brought a substantial cargo of mahogany to Lancaster as the final part of a triangular slave trade journey, the intention was to find out as much as possible about this ship and its journey from various historical records. Then via the Gillow archive, to attempt to trace the destination of the mahogany it carried, including into furniture that potentially still exists today. The Gillow archive provides a unique opportunity to look into the detail of the business activities of one of Lancaster’s leading cabinet makers during this period. It does not though provide a complete record and it can be difficult to trace particular transactions. The internship was therefore an experiment to discover what information could be found and what remained obscure. As will be explained, certain lines of connection proved difficult to definitively establish, including whether the Norfolk’s mahogany cargo did become part of Gillow’s supply of mahogany wood.

It is important to note that other Lancaster slave-trading ships also included mahogany as a commodity in their trading and wealth-making, meaning that our chosen ship and its journey is certainly not a unique one. Lancaster was only the fourth largest port involved in the slave trade in Britain, behind London, Liverpool and Bristol, and there were many other routes at this time for mahogany to get into the workshops of joiners and furniture makers around the country. Cargoes of mahogany came to Lancaster on ships undertaking journeys only out to and back from the West Indies (bi-lateral trade) and therefore not directly part of the triangular slave trade. However, most if not all of the mahogany transported across the Atlantic during this period would have been cut by enslaved labour (both African and native). The system of enslavement was therefore an intrinsic part of the mahogany furniture that was being produced, sold and valued for its distinctive qualities. We begin our account with the ship and its first slave trading journey. 

The Norfolk as a slave ship

The Norfolk, was a hundred-ton snauw (or snow) (see Figure 1) with six guns mounted, constructed in Virginia in 1762. We might assume that it was named after the city of its construction, as Norfolk, Virginia was notable for its level of maritime industry. William Kelso writes that ‘the yards at Norfolk vastly exceeded any other Virginia shipyard in quantity of production.’[6]It was also notable for constructing larger vessels than many other shipyards, averaging, according to Kelso, eighty-nine tons per ship.[7] Given that many male African slaves were put to work as ship carpenters at this time, it is also very possible that the Norfolk may have been itself in part a product of slave labour.

            As the ship was registered as sailing under the British flag in Lancaster in 1763[9], it is likely that its first major journey was across the Atlantic from Virginia, arriving at St Georges Quay in Lancaster to be received by its owner William Butterfield (1707-87). William was the son of the former mayor Christopher Butterfield and younger brother of Thomas Butterfield (1703-47) who was also involved in Lancaster’s slave-trading scene as it developed throughout the early to mid-eighteenth century. Elder notes that, ‘the Butterfields’ decision to open up trade with Africa appears to have been a deliberate attempt to diversify and extend their existing overseas trading operations. Colonial imports would have also provided valuable supplies for their grocery and apothecary businesses, not to mention the dye-house they also owned.[10] William was Constable of Lancaster Castle from 1760 and would become Mayor of Lancaster in his later years. Elder notes his ‘near-continuous involvement in slavers over a period of twenty years, until he reached the age of sixty-four’, concluding that ‘the trade satisfied his commercial aspirations’.[11] William’s ownership of the Norfolk, therefore, is in keeping with his commercial history and patterns of investment, of which the slave trade was clearly a significant component.

Taking on Human Cargo at the Slave Factory

The Norfolk was captained by Isaac Nunnes, whose surname also appears in relation to several earlier voyages, such as that of the Bridget, though the nature of this connection is obscure, and the gap in years might imply that it was not Isaac himself but rather a relative or ancestor who may have captained the Bridget. The Norfolk’s first voyage from Lancaster was as a slave trading ship, travelling to Africa and then on to Jamaica. It left Lancaster for Iles de Los, off the coast of Guinea in Africa, on 30^th September 1763, in order to exchange its cargo for enslaved Africans.[12] The goods it carried would have been typical of the ‘guinea cargos’ documented on similar ship journeys, such as linens, wool, silk products, gunpowder, lead and iron bars, copper and iron pots and pans, gold and silver rings and ornaments, paper, spirits, and tobacco.

The Iles de Los as an island setting was favoured by British slave traders for its safe anchorage where, Kenneth Morgan notes, ‘ships could lie in all weathers and from which slaves could not easily escape’.[13] Over the course of the 1750s one of the islands came to be dominated by ‘slave factories’ run by Miles Barber a merchant born in Lancaster. These acted as dockyards and ‘bulking centres’ for holding enslaved Africans who had either been captured or traded before their journey across the Atlantic. Bruce Mouser notes that Barber had rapidly established a series of land-based and floating slave factories that amounted to ‘nothing less than a commercial empire of significant proportions.’[14] The Norfolk may well have been fitted out for transporting enslaved Africans when in dock at one of these ‘slave factories’, although this could have also taken place earlier when in Lancaster[15].

Two hundred and thirty-six Africans[16] were enslaved and forced onto the Norfolk, most likely from one of Barber’s ‘holding-pens’. Of these thirty-four did not survive the long journey to Jamaica, the ship arriving into in Kingston on 10th October 1764. The cargo of the Norfolk is recorded in Naval Office Shipping Lists[17] as ‘202 negroes’, who would then have been sorted by age, gender and health status and sold on by factors (local slave merchants) into working for their owners on plantations, or into other forms of forced labour. Figure 2 shows the standard categories of cargo used in the Naval Office records, with the column for recording ‘negroes’ positioned in-between ‘mules and cattle’ and ‘pipes of madeira wine’. The mundane administrative status of enslaved humans as cargo is made strikingly clear.

From Human to Mahogany Cargo

The Norfolk stayed in Jamaica for three and a half months (105 days), moving at some point to the port Savanna-La-Mar, on the west coast, closer to where many mahogany trees at the time were being harvested inland and brought to the coast along the Black River to be cut into planks ready for shipment. Following the end of the Seven Years’ War and the resultant increase in mercantile activity, mahogany was reaching the heights of its popularity, with Jamaica acting as the primary source of Britain’s mahogany supply.[18] Intense deforestation of the island also meant that increasingly Jamaica acted as a centre for mahogany harvested and transported from other places. The mahogany destined for the Norfolk would have been located and cut by a team of enslaved labourers, sent out to find a good specimen, cut it down, clear a path for transportation, and move the tree ideally via the nearest waterway to the coast. This labour was hard and dangerous, but according to Anderson, these logging teams also ‘developed sophisticated knowledge of the forest and valuable skills, such as tracking and tree climbing, that required stamina, speed, and agility.’[19]

The Norfolk is recorded as being loaded with 413 planks of mahogany, along with 83 ‘hogsheads’ and 18 ‘tierces’ (both types of cask) of sugar, and 6 ‘puncheons’ of rum[20] and left Savanna-La-Mar on 23^rd January 1765 with a crew of thirteen. During its journey to Lancaster it was reported in Lloyd’s Lists[21] as having taken on board twelve shipwrecked crew members originally from the ship the Don Carlo (see Figure 3). They had been part of a group of twenty-one rescued after four days adrift at sea, who were then transferred to the Norfolk as it was returning to Lancaster. The ship again had a human cargo, but brought on board with care and compassion rather than enslaved, and no doubt as a consequence treated very differently. All appear to have survived the journey.

From Wood to Crafted Products

The Norfolk arrived in Lancaster on 12^th April 1765, eighteen months after it set out. Its substantial mahogany cargo would likely have been stored initially in one of the woodyards close to the docks (see Figure 4), including potentially at the Gillow woodyard which had been established in the ‘Green Area’[22] along Cable Street in the early 1760s. Here, the wood may have been left to season, a process in which timber is dried out in order to remove excess moisture from within. Though this process would often begin while wood was in transit on board a ship, some would be seasoned for as little as several months or as long as five years once it arrived at its destination.[23]

            There is no specific record in the Gillow archive showing a payment for mahogany from the Norfolk shipment.[24] For the period examined (1765-6), some detailed accounting of other mahogany purchases can be found, including calculations of length, width and depth of planks and cost per foot. However, other substantial purchases are recorded only as a price paid for a total lot, with no detail beyond this, indicating that the obtaining and purchasing of mahogany at this time is not fully or consistently documented in the archive. Despite this absence in the archive, it is reasonable to assume that such a substantial shipment would be destined at least in part for Gillow, potentially also being shared with one or more of the other cabinet maker businesses that were in the Lancaster area at the time.

Once the wood had been appropriately seasoned, selected planks would have been moved when needed into a local workshop and crafted into mahogany furniture or other products. Based on the time the Norfolk arrived back in Lancaster, these could have included craftsmen such as Richard Chambers, and William Carruthers, both of whom carried out work for Gillow and other local cabinet makers during the late 1760s[25].

By working through Gillow archive records of sales from April 1765 to the end of December 1766[26], we can see the many and varied products that mahogany timber at the time was crafted into. Approximately one hundred and fifty items of mahogany furniture were sold over this period ranging from larger articles such as commodes and bookcases, to smaller ones such as screens and knife trays. Many names of merchants, captains and others involved in the slave trade are recorded as being ‘Gillow’ customers, both local and abroad, including the Butterfield family and as in Figure 5 ‘Mr Miles Barber, merchant’[27].

             The Gillow firm at this time received orders and commissions throughout the north-west of England, such that their furniture became a defining and recognisable feature across many of the well-established and grand houses within the area, from Sizergh Castle in Cumbria to Dunham Massey in Greater Manchester[28]. Their trade also extended more widely throughout Britain, such as the commission of a universal table for the Blue Bell Inn at Haddington near Edinburgh, and a large desk sent to a location in Salisbury.

We cannot know the specific crafted items that the Norfolk’s 413 planks of mahogany ended up as, either at Gillows or one of the other furniture companies that may also have received wood from the Norfolk’s cargo. However, fine and expensive furniture often lasts a long time, meaning that properties such as Sizergh Castle and Dunham Massey could now be displaying 18^th century furniture made from mahogany transported on the Norfolk, or on one of the other slave ships that included mahogany in their cargo for the final leg of their triangular journeys. Even if the wood came from ships only engaged in bilateral trade with the colonies, this would almost certainly have been cut and made ready for transportation by enslaved Africans. How this provenance and history should be acknowledged and responded to is an important question for discussion and debate.

In the Ship’s Wake

In her book, In the Wake: On Blackness and Being, author Christina Sharpe uses the term ‘wake work’ to refer to, among other definitions, the wake of the slave ships that transported enslaved Africans across the globe. She considers the image and concept of the wake ‘as the conceptual frame of and for living blackness in the diaspora in the still unfolding aftermaths of Atlantic chattel slavery’.[29] We take Sharpe’s use of the ‘wake’ as a multi-faceted term referring to both the disturbance of water following the passage of a ship and to the vigil that follows a person’s death. Both meanings are of relevance to this study. In the wake of slave ships such as the Norfolk, which transported cargoes of both mahogany planks and Africans whose enslavement and brutalised labour was integral to mahogany becoming a profitable commodity, even pieces of furniture as apparently innocuous as chairs and tables take on more significant proportions. The extent to which these items ought to be understood as components of the legacy of colonial rule across the globe is a question as complex as mahogany wood itself, but it is hard to dispute that contemporary heritage practices should account in some way for the political ecology of mahogany wood. Indeed, on closer inspection these objects bring with them what scholar Jane Bennett has called a ‘vital materialism’ that renders it impossible for us to avoid engaging with their histories and the political realities they represent.[30]

Acknowledgements

We are grateful to Dr Sunita Abraham for all her enthusiasm and support and for facilitating the Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences internship.  We are also grateful to Susan Stuart for the lending of materials for the internship research, for her invaluable insights into the history of the Gillow company and its furniture and for her comments on an earlier draft. Melinda Elder and Mike Winstanley also provided helpful suggestions and corrections on a later draft. All interpretations and points made are strictly those of the authors alone.

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